


Through The Darkness

by NorthenOak



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Female!Bilbo, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthenOak/pseuds/NorthenOak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug has been ruling the city of Laketown for ten years. In his hands the city has crumbled, people are hungry and the criminal underworld thrives. <br/>Belladonna Baggins has been a part of the rebellion since its inception. She is the Burglar, the Thief in the Darkness.<br/>Thorin Oakenshield is the detective investigating one of her robberies, a detective with a few secrets of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Banks and Unexpected Encounters

You could safely say that Belladonna Baggins’s night was not going well. And that was putting it mildly. In fact Belladonna or Bella as she prefers to be known was currently crouched behind the bins in a dirty back alley ten minutes from the bank. The bank that she had just robbed. That part of the night had gone just fine, the security had been lax and she herself had been on remarkably good form. She had got into the vault without a whisper and then back out again with the jewels with barely a peep. She had been standing on the roof waiting for the guard to continue his rounds so she could sneak past when a blazing contingent of police cars and sleek black vans had arrived. They had seen her and she had run. She had hoped that whatever the police were delivering to the bank was far too important for them to spare more than a couple of men to chase after her but that had not been the case. No less than fifteen men had been on her tail not ten minutes ago. She had managed to give them the slip and was now hiding rather closer to the bank than she would have liked. But she didn’t want to draw any more attention; she had probably already been caught on fifty different cameras.

            She was wearing her well-loved sleek black catsuit. An outfit that never failed to make her feel dangerous, in-control and just a little bit sexy.  Not that her situation reflected any of those things. She was also wearing her mask and had her hair tied back in a tight braid. She pressed closer to the cold wall as sirens shrieked just past the entrance to the alley. She relaxed when the sound grew fainter. An ugly black cat hissed from further down the alley and her gaze darted towards the sound. Her muscles were starting to ache, she glanced upwards at the black sky, praying that it wouldn’t rain. She couldn’t see any stars, not that you ever could now days. Smaug’s factories and fires had long since polluted the skies. She could barely remember what they looked like, the stars that is. She had vague memories of her father pointing out constellations but time had faded all but the warm touch and the smell of tobacco.

            It was almost an hour later that she uncurled herself from the corner. She peered nervously around her before standing. She winced at the spots were the stone had dug into her back. She took a step forwards. And then another. Nothing. Even the cat had vanished. She let out a breath and rolled her shoulders trying to ease the muscles before she clambered up onto the roof.

            Out of nowhere an arm circled her shoulders dragging her backwards. She reacted instinctively. She pitched her weight forwards but whoever it was was too tall for that manoeuvre to have an effect. In fact he just slammed her into the wall hard, her shoulder took the brunt of the impact and she bit back a moan. She tried another tactic; she slammed her foot down as hard as possible on the person’s instep, which provoked a masculine groan. Good. The arm about her shoulders loosened enough for her to swing her elbow hard into his stomach then upward at his nose. The man obviously hadn’t been expecting this much of a fight. Before he could recover Bella had spun around, kneed him in the groin and darted away. She swung up onto the bins then she leapt upwards, her fingers scrabbling at a ledge. The man had recovered and his hand circled her ankle. She kicked backwards, her heel slamming into his nose, he grunted and let go. She puled herself up onto the roof and she ran. Despite the harshness of her breath and the rapid beating of her heart she felt a thrill. She leapt across a gap and allowed herself an instant to glance behind her. She couldn’t see him; maybe her last kick had put him out. It had been a strong kick to the face; she understood the danger of that. She found herself pausing. If she had really hurt him then he would need medical assistance fast. He wouldn’t be getting that if he was unconscious is some alley no one would ever think to check. _No Bella, don’t even think about…_ She cursed, kicked at the roof and hurried back the way she came. She peered down into the alley but she couldn’t see much in the darkness. She cursed again and started to climb down. _Stupid Bella, stupid stupid stupid_. A muffled groan made her tense and she almost climbed back up again. She leapt the last metre or so landing almost silently and creeping closer to the dark shape slumped against the wall.

            Now she was closer she could vaguely make him out. His eyes were closed and his face was bloody. She took a step closer, her caution warring with her morals. The latter won and she crouched by his side. She checked his pulse, which was strong. He had just had a knock then, possible concussion. At least her hadn’t vomited. She slapped him and his eyes snapped open, pale in the darkness.

            “Stay awake,” She hissed before patting him down. She found his communicator attached to his belt, a crackle of voices issued from it. She pushed the button. “You guys have a wounded man in the alley half way down Adam Street. Possible concussion. Hurry.” There was a flurry of noise from the communicator but she ignored it and turned back to the man. His eyes were open but bleary. The little she could see off his face amidst the darkness and the blood was handsome, a long straight nose and strong jaw. His hair was dark and slight shaggy. She pushed it out of his face so she could get a better look at him.

            “What are you doing? Who are you?” He asked suddenly, making a movement to grab her. He was clumsy though and she evaded him easily. His voice was commanding and proud despite how he was slumped against the wall.

            “You are under arrest,” He told her attempting to get to his feet. She pushed him back down and he grabbed her wrist. “You shouldn’t have come back,” She tugged her had free and moved out of reach. The words caught her and she studied him again. He was definitely a police officer of some sort.

            “If you’re well enough to try and catch me then you are well enough to stay awake until your friends get here. I‘ll take my leave,”

            “Who are you?” He demanded again, his voice worryingly clear. His pale eyes flashed in anger. She studied at him before climbing back up the wall.

            “The Burglar at your service,” She said, “Don’t close your eyes,” then she was gone. She vanished into the night.

 

            She climbed in through the window of her flat with a broken moan. Everything was sore, her shoulder from where it had smashed into the wall, her grazed hands from where she scraped them trying to scramble up said wall, her knees from where she bashed it climbing up the outside of her building. Myrtle blinked at her from where she was curled up on the sofa. _Stupid cat,_ Bella muttered. She didn’t even know why she had the creature. She was, as a general rule, a dog person. The cat woke her up in the middle of the night, constantly scratched her furniture and worst off all, squashed her plants. At that thought she glanced quickly around the small space to make sure there hadn’t been any casualties while she was away. Too many times she had come home to the corpse of an orchid strewn across the floor surrounded by broken flowerpot. Every time she swore she would get rid of _that bloody cat,_ but she could never quite bring herself to make good on her threat. Not that the cat showed any gratefulness. _Look at it, sitting there blinking as if it owned the place. I’m the one who pays the rent, cat._ She shook her head; if attempting to talk telepathically to a cat wasn’t a sign of madness she didn’t know what was. She kicked off her shoes and peeled off her mask and her suit. She undid her tight braid painfully and smiled at the feeling.

            In the mirror she peered at her shoulder, as far as she could see the skin wasn’t broken but there was going to be some impressive bruising. She washed the grit out of her hands and bandaged them. She left her knee as it was hoping that she wouldn’t have to strain it anytime soon.

            There was no illegal activity planned in the next few days. She hoped that she could spend her next few nights sleeping rather than running across the city, beating up handsome police officers.

            Just then her television flared on, she glanced at it.  It was the same message that had played every few hours for the past ten years. A handsome red-haired man’s face filled the screen. He spoke in the same rich, hypnotizing tone that had got him elected ten years ago, a tone that Bella had never once trusted.

           

_This message is brought to you by Smaug, your great and magnificent leader._

_Citizens of Laketown it is my pleasure to inform you that all is well in our fair city. Levels of well-being are at an all-time high, our economy is flourishing and our children are happy. I am honoured to have played my part in the prosperity that drives us forward every single day. Your obedience, humility and attentiveness have been instrumental in creating the happy society we currently live in._

           

            There was a pause in the recording before the second part of the message, one that had only been added five or six years ago, started playing. The man’s face turned angry and though his voice was still smooth as silk, there was thunder behind it.

 

            _But good citizens, there are those who wish to disturb the peace that I have brought you. There are those who’s dissention and vile actions have made this city a darker place. I will not tolerate this rebellion. Those who have any knowledge of these individuals must come forwards or they will be punished. Those who engage in such activity will be caught and their punishment will be severe. There will be no mercy._

 

            Bella snorted. But even after hearing the same message over and over again she could not prevent the tremor of fear that the voice inspired.

            She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing three in the morning. She sighed, she still had a day job to get to, one she loved admittedly but not one she felt like doing on only five hours of sleep.

            Bella was a botanist at Underhill Gardens, a pretty good one at that. Her colleagues jokingly said that there wasn’t a single species of flower that she could recognise by smell alone.

            She shrugged into her pyjamas, trying not to jostle her shoulder and curled into bed. Myrtle soon joined her, taking far too much of the covers despite her size but Bella couldn’t bring herself to kick her off.

            She fell asleep. She dreamt of a smooth untrustworthy voice whispering foul rumours, she dreamt of cold rain and ugly cats and pale angry eyes.


	2. Of Aches and Unwelcome Suprises

She should be used to the aches and pains of the morning after a heist. But as consciousness dawned, she realized she _really_ wasn’t. She let out a collection of colourful expletives as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her alarm was beeping insistently from her bedside table, she groaned at the invasion of her throbbing head. She swung her legs over the side, sending Myrtle yowling to the floor as she did so. The cat stalked off, tail twitching, too aloof to even send Bella a disdainful glare. Bella rolled her eyes at her, at least that didn’t hurt.

            She would dearly love to remain in bed for the rest of the morning but she had missed work too often in the past few months. She mustn’t draw any more suspicion. With that thought she stood and dressed for the day. She wore a knee-length floral skit that was far too bright for the dreary city outside and a dark blue V-neck jersey. She pulled on black tights and her worn black combat-boots. Her hair was it’s usual chaotic mess so she pulled all her curls into a loose twist held together by hairpins and hope. She glanced in the mirror praying that there was no evidence of her late night on her face. She had a bruise on her jaw that she could cover easily enough and anyway she could just say she walked into a door or something.

            She watered her plants, glaring at Myrtle when she discovered that her Helichrysum had been flattened. It was only when she glanced out the window into the grey city that she noticed a tiny piece of red thread tied to the rails of her minuscule balcony. She opened the window and unwound it. Her innate paranoia pushed her to scan the windows of the building opposite for any activity. The red thread was a message, how Gandalf got it up here she had never found out, but it was a call for a meeting. She groaned, a meeting with Gandalf would mean another late night and probably more bruises. She understood that is was necessary. If Gandalf were here now he would tell her to stop grumbling. She would reply that it was her right to grumble as she was the one forced to leave her comfy armchair behind to go tramping through wet streets, getting into dangerous situations. Then he would smile, his eyes bright beneath his bushy eyebrows and tell her that she was well aware why it was necessary.

            And she was. She had seen how the rot had grown in the city since Smaug had come to power. She had seen how people’s backs had become stooped under crippling taxes and dangerous streets. She had seen how the criminal underworld of the city had tripled in size over the last ten years. Smaug took money from the people. He took money from the drug lords and the arms traffickers he allowed to live here, he took and he took and her never gave back. He demanded blind obedience and unerring loyalty but gave none in return. He cultivated fear and wielded terror. All this despite the fact that no one ever saw him in flesh and blood. The closest they came to knowing their leader was a face on the TV screens and a voice that simultaneously soothed and commanded.

            She wound that piece of thread round and round her finger as she rode the underground to work. As the train thudded over the tracks she watched the other passengers. This was one of the places she really noticed Smaug’s influence. In the drawn tired faces of the people on their way to work. The man in the tattered suit with his head tipped back against the window, his mouth wide open, fast asleep. The two women with their arms around each other staring vacantly at the floor, one had her hand tucked into the other’s coat pocket. The child in the red jacket desperately trying to get the attention of her father who clearly didn’t give two hoots. Everything seemed grey, tattered and worn out. Laketown had been a vibrant city ten years ago when Bella was scarce more than a child. She remembered the Spring Festival that would usually be taking place soon. People came from miles to walk through the streets, surrounded by music and strange foods and laughter. There would be the kite-flyers with their astonishing kites, shaped like dragons and swallows and fish. The storytellers from distant lands who would trade exotic tales for a couple of coins. The Spring Festival didn’t happen anymore, no one could afford it. This made Bella’s heart ache. She had never been one for heroics or adventures but she loved reading about them, hearing about them. The Spring Festival allowed her glimpses of an extraordinary world that would never be hers. The child in the red jacket would love the Spring Festival she decided, watching as she tugged repeatedly on her father’s sleeve.

            She smiled at her colleagues, exchanging good mornings and other pleasantries. Bella’s job revolved around the classification and identification of flowering plants. She had a particular interest in orchids in her workplace but outside her fondness was for all sorts of wildflower. She shared her lab space with two others, one of who was out today.

            She worked diligently until midday, which was when she encountered a problem. A large problem. She was just heading to lunch when she bumped into her friend, Dylan, from the forensic botany lab. At first she didn’t pay attention to the person accompanying him as she was far more interested in inquiring after the rare species of iris Dylan had got his hands on. And anyway the forensic team were constantly tailed by a panoply of different people all after some result or other. But once he had finished informing her of the plant’s well-being and assuring her that _yes, she could see it some time,_ Dylan turned to introduce her. It took all her restraint not to gasp at the sight of grey eyes and a bruised face. She fought to remain expressionless as the man smiled tightly and shook her hand.

            “Detective Oakenshield here had some organic plant matter for us to examine from the bank last night. Did you hear about that?” Her friend continued oblivious to Bella’s internal battle. She replied that she hadn’t heard anything about the bank.

Her friend launched into monologue detailing everything he had heard on the news, Bella tuned him out. She discreetly observed the man Dylan had called Oakenshield. He was most definitely the one she had knocked out last night. He had bruising around his nose that some didn’t detract from his proud good-looks. He was dressed smartly in a blue shirt and black trousers. She was so engrossed in her appraisal that it took her a few seconds to realize that he was studying her as well. His gaze ran over her from head to toe, making her skin prickle. She frowned when his eyes met hers and a small smirk appeared. She tried to concentrate on any but the fear that suddenly knotted her insides. What if he knew? What if he smirked was because he was toying with her?

            “You don’t mind do you?” Her friend asked.

            “Er…No,” She replied haphazardly not fully taking in the question.

            “Good, well I’ll see you later then Detective, Bella,”

            “Wait what?” Bella asked her attention snapping back to Dylan, but he had already left. Bella just stood a confused look on her face, trying to ignore the unwelcome presence before her.

            “I believe you just agreed to have lunch with me whilst I wait for the lab’s test results to come back,” He said, his voice low and pleasant. She looked up at him carefully schooling her features. His smile was wider; her obvious distractedness clearly amused him.

            “Did I?” she said. He laughed at that and she felt herself blush. _Pull yourself together, girl._ He didn’t know, he couldn’t know. There is no way he could know. Her mask had covered her face entirely and she would be extremely pissed off if he could recognize her from her body. She shook her head. She knew she could tell him that actually no, she did mind and she was busy but she couldn’t bring herself to be quite that rude. And anyway she was hungry. There was no way he could know who she was so she was safe, no need to arouse suspicion by running away from him.

            “Well then, to lunch,” she said. The short walk gave her time to compose herself and push aside the fear coiling in the pit of her stomach. Her nervousness was not helped by the fact she could feel his gaze on the back of her head as she lead him to the cafeteria.

            “I’m Bella by the way,”

            “Yes I know, your friend said,”

            “Oh well then and you are?”

            “Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield,” He was smirking again and she glared at him. She didn’t appreciate mockery. She reassured herself with the fact that she had given him a good beating the previous night. She felt a twinge of guilt as she caught sight of his bruises whilst scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit. She shouldn’t feel guilt, the police force that guarded the city were under Smaug’s control. They were corrupt and more often than not extremely brutal. Bella had had a deep-rooted hatred for them ever since they had beaten Old Gaffer, her elderly neighbour and the man who watered her flowers when she was away, to a bloody pulp. They had done this because he had sent his son away to a school across the country; incidentally the same school Bella’s nephew went to. But she found herself unable to summon hatred for this proud bruised man. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in uniform, maybe it was what he had said last night: _You shouldn’t have come back._

            “So what’s this about the bank?” She asked once they were both seated opposite each other.

            “Did you listen to a word your friend said?” He asked.

            “No,”

            “Someone broke in last night, got away with some rather valuable jewels,”     “And your dignity?” She couldn’t help herself. His gaze flashed from his plate to her face.

            “What?” His voice was low.

            “I assume whoever stole the jewels also left those bruises,” She reached across the table to touch the purple skin. He frowned and she dropped her hand blushing. _What on earth Bella?_ She concentrated on her plate.

            “You should see the other guy,” He said finally and she looked up grinning. _“The other guy”_ had most definitely come out on top of that encounter. _Men_.

            “Oh really?”

            “Aye. Poor guy could barely walk,” Bella had to hold back laughter at this.

            “And yet he still got away?” The question was posed with as much innocence as she could muster. Thorin seemed to see through it and glared at her despite the smile he was clearly restraining.

            “So what do you do here?” He asked in a not-so-subtle change of subject. She held his gaze for a few instants to ensure he knew she was not fooled by his attempt but she relented.

            “Plant taxonomy,” He looked at her expectantly “I classify plants. Genus, species, sub-species and so forth,”

            “That’s an actual job?”

            “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow in warning; she didn’t take attacks to her field of expertise lightly. She restrained herself from asking the same question of him. Speaking with such insolence to a member of the police force could land her in a lot of trouble. She definitely didn’t need anyone examining her activities too closely. She couldn’t keep a smile on her face at the thought. Thorin seemed to notice the sudden change in her demeanour but he didn’t comment. They finished their lunch in silence. Bella wiped her face with her napkin and offered to lead him back to the forensic lab. 

           “Right down here and first to the left,” She told him “It was nice meeting you,”

            She was about to leave when he grabbed her wrist. A sudden surge of panic almost drove her to swing her fist at him, the image of him grabbing her last night flashing before her eyes. She took a deep breath and turned back around, praying he hadn’t noticed her sudden tensing. From the angry expression on his face he had. She braced herself, ready to run. To her shock he grabbed her chin and turned her face to the side.

            “Who did this?” It took her a moment to tramp down on the fear enough to work out what he was speaking of. The bruise. From his expression he had come to the wrong conclusion, she felt relief trickle down her spine.

            “No one,” He obviously didn’t believe her. She yanked away from the fingers that burnt against her skin.

            “If someone is hurting you—“

            “I walked into a door Detective,” She interrupted.

            “If you think I’m going to believe that,” His voice was thunderous, almost protective. She felt anger surge inside her. _How dare he?_

            “Listen Detective, it’s not your job to protect me,”

            “I have a duty to protect you. I am an officer of the law,”

            “Then why don’t you go beat up some innocent citizen because he can’t pay your boss’s extortionate taxes? That’s what you usually do isn’t it?” She turned on her heel and marched away. She refused to show her fear until she was out of sight. _How could she be so stupid?_ If Gandalf were here he would be furious, she didn’t need to be memorable. She turned the corner and glanced over her shoulder, hoping against hope that he wasn’t following her. He wasn’t. She stumbled back to her lab and sank down onto her stool, burying her face in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thanks for the hits and the kudos on my first chapter. I'll be updating as often as possible.  
> Please let me know what you think.


	3. Of Rain and Secret Meetings

The rest of her day past mechanically. She found none of her usual pleasure if the methodical identification of samples, her mind was too occupied with her slip of the tongue. She hoped that since Thorin had not come after her he would let her rudeness slip. Goodness knows her words had not been in accordance with the rules imposed by Smaug. _Obey and listen_ was what he said. _Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself_ was what Gandalf said. She had been stupid; she had let her temper get in the way of her common sense. She usually had none of the former and an abundance of the latter. _Stupid_. It was still early when she pulled on her raincoat and bid her lab-partner goodbye. She was in a bad mood as she headed home. It was raining again. If she didn’t know it was impossible she would have sworn that Smaug’s oppression had stretched as far as the clouds.

She glowered at the guards standing at the entrance to the underground checking people’s papers. They let her pass, clearly not noticing her sour expression.

She kicked open her door and slumped into her armchair.

“Go make me a cup of tea,” She told Myrtle who blinked. “You’re useless,” She sighed and heaved herself up again. Whilst she waited for the kettle to boil she pulled off her shoes and tights. She would like to put her pyjamas on but if she had to meet Gandalf later tonight she would just have to change again.

Her flat was small crammed with two things: books and plants. An eclectic mixture of reading material lined the walls. Her expensive, stunningly illustrated botany reference books sat next to her impressive array of high-fantasy novels. In turn they were joined by her collection of socio-economic non-fiction paperbacks. Plants took up every flat surface in the room, creepers climbed her bookshelves and small bonsai trees clustered her windowsill. The air in the room smelt earthy and damp, she had more plants in her small flat than most people had in their gardens.

            She curled back into her armchair with her mug of tea and settled a book across her lap. She relished these few moments of peace. Over the next couple of hours only Smaug’s message and a hungry cat disturbed her. It gave her a chance to relax her tired muscles.

She jerked awake much later, slamming her hand down on her book to stop it slipping to the floor. She ran her fingers through her hair encountering a fair few knots. It was just past eleven. She shuffled into her bedroom and picked up her catsuit. It was crumpled and still dirty from the previous night. She sighed, cursing her own laziness. However she knew that Gandalf would be angry is she showed up in anything but the uniform he had proudly distributed all that time ago. She stripped down to her underwear and pulled it on, wriggling it over her hips. Her mask followed and then her gloves. She also slipped her fingers into the special pouch at her belt making sure the stolen jewels were still there. She didn’t like looking at her spoils, she preferred to ignore whatever she had thieved until the time came to pass it on to Gandalf. The metal was cool against her fingers, even through the material of her gloves. She pulled her hand away. She left the gun holster on her thigh empty but she slotted small throwing knives into the special compartment on her belt. They may not mortally wound anyone but they would definitely sting. She glanced out her bedroom window at the steady downpour and reached for a black hoodie. Uniform or not, rain falling into the collar of a skin-tight suit was not pleasant. She braided her hair and pulled up her hood before clambering out her window. She wasn’t overly fond of the climb down to street level but at least it allowed her to remain incognito. She didn’t want Old Gaffer having a heart attack when she swung by his window.

The rebellion met sporadically at a variety of different locations. Tonight, if Bella remembered correctly, they were meeting under the railway bridge. She had to duck behind a wall on the way there to avoid the two gun toting guards standing on a near-by rooftop. A man and a woman from what she could make out, both wearing the uniform that marked them out as Smaug’s minions. Her mind flashed back to Thorin, who had been wearing the same uniform last night. _You shouldn’t have come back_. Why had he said that? In all logic someone working for Smaug would want to catch someone stealing from Smaug. It didn’t make any sense. Had it been a surge of morality, knowledge of what would befall her should she get caught? She had no illusions about what would happen to her should she be captured. Gandalf had drilled it in to them. Not only to ensure they remained cautious but also to be certain that they were willing to join the rebellion. She doubted she could hold up under the torture Smaug’s men would force her to suffer. She didn’t have a high threshold for pain. But Gandalf was aware of this. He had made certain that none of the members of the rebellion could betray each other. She didn’t know the identity of a single person other than Gandalf so she could never give them up. She had met them of course, talked to them, but she had never seen their faces or heard their names. Of this she was grateful, it helped her rest easy at night knowing that even under the most extreme torture she could never give up those she had come to call friends.

The guards moved on, their torches fading into the darkness. Bella continued her trek across the rooftops of Laketown.

The railway bridge was a perfect place for a meeting. Not only did the rattle of trains make it hard to be overheard but also the homeless tended to gather there. Their numbers were vast compared to ten years ago. Their presence made it easier to blend, to hide if guards came past. Not that they ever did venture under the bridge, too afraid to dirty their pretty uniforms amidst those they considered far beneath them.

Bella glanced around her before darting under the bridge. Once there she sat down against a wall next to a young mother with her two children, to scan the area. Once she was certain there was no one but the homeless here she got to her feet, trying not to disturb the children. She wound between the pillars until she reached a metal door so dirty and rusted that it blended with the wall. She knocked.

“Who is it?” The voice inside was low and unmistakably Gandalf’s.

“The Burglar,” She muttered back. The door swung inwards noiselessly and she entered the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside there were eleven people, all dressed in black, though many of them had, like Bella, put on something to keep the rain off. They nodded at her, smiling under their masks, she grinned back.

“Lovely weather isn’t it,” She greeted them, pushing back her hood. The eleven people inside were far from the entirety of the rebellion. For extra security Gandalf ensured that they never all met at once. She turned to greet Gandalf, the only person in the room with his face uncovered. H e allowed them to see his face because he knew with utter certainty that even if he were described down to the last wrinkle, he would not get caught. His ability to seemingly vanish into thin air was almost magical. She smiled at the familiar face, the hooked nose and the bushy brows.

“Hello Burglar,” Came a voice behind her and arms circled her waist. Gandalf rolled his eyes and turned back towards the group. Bella threw an elbow into the stomach of the person holding her and grinned.

“Hello oh noble keen-eyed Archer,” She turned to meet the bright eyes of the member she knew only as Archer. He was short, only a little taller than her with messy brown hair and permanent stubble. He and his blond-haired friend usually arrived together and left together. Bella suspected that they were the youngest people in the room, though she couldn’t know for sure. Archer was also a bit of a flirt; Bella knew not to take him seriously. She pushed him away and waved to others she recognized. There was the tall broad-shouldered bald Tattoo and white-haired Taleteller who looked to be almost as old as Gandalf.

“Burglar I saw your exploits on the news. At least I hope it was you, wouldn’t want a rogue thief stealing all Smaug’s wealth,”

“That was me,” Bella assured Gandalf and she reached into the pouch at her belt. She pulled out a handful of gleaming platinum and diamond. The necklace was a ridiculous thing, all delicate filigree and sparkling rock. She placed it on the table after untangling it from a matching earring. She rooted around in the pouch to pull out the other earring. The set of jewellery sat there, glowing pale in the dim light.

“Well I’ll be…“

“You’ve seen fancy jewels before,” She told Archer who leaned forwards to trace a line of diamonds.

“But this is something else,” Said Taleteller scooping the necklace up. He examined it through a small magnifying glass. “I would guess that it is nearly a thousand years old. Platinum and diamonds of course. Made by Aulë himself I would guess. You don’t find his original creations anymore. Priceless.”

“I certainly hope not. I didn’t spend my night running around in the dark for you to say that it is too valuable to be sold,” Bella told him, crossing her arms. He smiled at her.

“Worry not my dear Burglar, we’ll find a buyer,” Gandalf patted her shoulder as he said this. He took the jewels from Taleteller’s hands and wrapped them in black cloth before putting it away. He would find a seller and then use the money to help the hungry and the lost as well as furthering the cause. Bella never saw this part of the rebellion in action despite the fact it was the only reason she had joined in the first place. She had a home, she had comfort and she wanted to help those who didn’t.

“Right. To business,” Gandalf leant forwards, placing his knuckles on the table, “I believe the time is drawing near. Our agents are in place. We have weapons, money. It is time to start an uprising. It is time to take back what belongs to us,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next one. Hope you enjoyed it.  
> For all those out there who enjoy female!Bilbo, I was wondering you had a fancast for her. I have an image of her face in my mind and I am curious to see other's.


	4. Of Fear and Worrying Discoveries

The silence stretched out. The very absence of noise seemed loud, heavy, oppressive even. Bella shifted, her heart beating in her throat. She should be ready for this. They had all known that this time would come. But now that they stood at the edge of the precipice she suddenly saw how high they were. The unknown future was a great yawning black hole before her, she felt suddenly unsteady. She clenched her fists wondering if she was strong enough. She would never admit it but that was one of her greatest fears. Not being strong enough. Not being able to do what had to be done. Bella knew how scared she was and she hated it. Her own fear tasted sour in her mouth. The ‘what if’s hung over her head as dark as the night sky. What if she faltered? What if people died because she wasn’t capable of making the right decisions? Bella shivered. She pushed the thoughts out of her head, now was not the time to dwell on the darkness in her own heart.

“Are the people ready?” Asked Taleteller tentatively, his eyes dark. “Do they know what an uprising will mean for them?”

“It will mean freedom,” said Archer stepping forwards. He spoke with utter conviction.

“It will also mean death,” called another voice, one Bella didn’t recognize. A tall man stepped closer to the table, he rested his hands flat on the wooden surface staring at all of them. His eyes glinted beneath his mask. “Do they know that?”

“This is Bowman. He has lived long in this city and knows the underworld like no other,”

“I have not met him before,” growled Tattoo who was innately suspicious of anyone and everyone.

“There are many in this rebellion that you have not yet met,” warned Gandalf . “Bowman is trustworthy,” Tattoo grumbled but said nothing more. Bowman continued, his voice strong.

“These people have suffered enough. If we draw the wrath of Smaug upon them who knows how many will survive,”

“Do you propose that they continue to live in fear and hunger and desolation?” More voices joined the argument.

“Surely there is another way!”

“Can you not remember what this city was like before?”

“Why are you arguing this? This is what we have been fighting towards for over five years, why do you back out now?”

“I think only of the people!” Bowman’s voice had grown stronger though he still spoke low enough to remain unheard by any outside the room.

“You think of yourself!” Tattoo pounded his fist on the table in anger. “You are a coward,”

“Silence!” Gandalf spoke quietly but commanded the attention of the entire room, his body seeming to fill the space. The lights appeared to flicker. The mutterings faded.

“My agents in Smaug’s bank and fortress have told me of passages. There are ways to get beyond the barriers and the guards into the heart of Smaug’s domain. Further even than our little Burglar has been on her robberies,” Gandalf glanced at Bella as he said this, his eyes sad. “What we have stolen over the course of the past few years is nothing compared to what is hidden in the darkest places of this city,”

“Smaug has legions of soldiers. Weapons we could only dream of. Weapons that tear and burn and destroy. I have even heard rumours of chemical weapons. For all we know he could poison each and every person in this city,” Bowman’s fists clenched as he spoke. He swallowed and stared at his feet, anger radiating from him.

Bella stared at the floor, her heart pounding. She was not a planner in this rebellion; she was not a spy, she wasn’t even a fighter. She didn’t gather intelligence. As such there was much she was not privy to, the whispers of chemical weapons was one of these things. She hadn’t heard of this before but she feared what their existence could mean. She could only imagine the damage they could do, the lives they could take. She pressed her hands to her mouth. Archer squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. Gandalf was frowning; he didn’t meet their eyes but stared almost vacantly at the table.

“My agents—” He paused and sighed, rubbing his fingers across his forehead “My agents have informed me that Smaug has laboratories in his fortress. I have a spy on his scientific team who has seen imports of substances that can only be qualified as very dangerous. Unfortunately my spy is not part of his inner circle and as such cannot report much more than this. However I do believe that this is evidence of the development of chemical weaponry,”

There was a hush, a silence as thick as treacle, followed by a sudden outcry. Bella swayed slightly and the hand on her shoulder tensed. She turned to glance at Archer to see that his eyes were full of tears. She pressed her hand over his. Rumours were bad enough but this? Evidence that Smaug was working towards something that could decimate the population of the city. The darkness suddenly seemed overbearing. Bella craved the sunlight, not the weak watery sunlight that trickled through the layers of smog that covered the city. But true, warming, bright sunlight that she could lift her face to meet. She was like a plant, growing towards brightness in the hope that the light would grow stronger.

“And yet you still preach attack!” Bowman’s fist slammed against the table. “How can you consider asking the people to rise up when all that awaits them is utter devastation?”

“We would not ask them to fight until we are certain that this weapon will not harm them,” Gandalf spoke calmly but with an edge of steel to his voice.

“And how could you ever be certain of that?” Bella spoke finally, her voice soft. Bowman turned to look at her for the first time, surprise in his eyes. Bella was known to be a firm friend of Gandalf’s so her speaking against him was curious. Bowman nodded in what appeared to be approval and turned back to face the grey man.

“The Burglar is right. How could be ever be certain that the people are safe from a weapon we cannot even see?”

“Use your senses Bowman. Would Smaug want to rule over an empty city? A chemical weapon, especially one of the sort we believe he is making, would affect everyone. It is not precise or targeted, it can only be used on a massive general scale,” Gandalf scanned the room, waiting for someone to understand what he was trying to say. _Smaug wouldn’t want to rule an empty city_. Bella turned the words over in her mind.

“There’s a vaccine,” She understood suddenly and Gandalf smiled at her.

“There has to be,” He said “A vaccine or an antidote, to protect Smaug and his men and all those he wants to stay alive. For all we know he could start selling it, probably at a price so high only the richest can afford it. But there has to be one,”

The room filled with low whispers, debates and questions. Bella glanced at Archer who still had an expression of great sorrow in his eyes. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. He smiled kindly at her as his blond friend clapped him on the shoulder, his eyes too were sad.

“I have agents who are working towards determining a location for this vaccine. Making sure it exists. I should have the information in the next few days. Once that is determined then the first phase of true rebellion begins. We will have to steal it,” He glanced at Bella as he said this, she shifted nervously. “We will have another meeting to plan this. If this vaccine does exist I have no doubt that it will be guarded by many men, deep in Smaug’s fortress. It will not be easy.”

There was a low murmur of agreement. Archer whispered something into his friend’s ear. Bella wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the zip of her catsuit press into her forearms.

The meeting came to an end, people trickled out the door in ones and twos in intervals. Bella hung behind wanting to have a word with Gandalf about her idiocy at work.

“Burglar my dear, what can I do for you?” He asked finally as Bowman disappeared out the door after exchanging a few low hurried words with Gandalf. Bella twisted her fingers together not knowing how to start. Gandalf glanced at her as her tucked the jewels into a deep pocket of his long grey coat.

“Last night didn’t go as smoothly as planned,” She started hesitantly, he frowned at her. “I was attacked by one of Smaug’s minions as I was trying to get away from the bank. I got away of course, or I wouldn’t be here. But that’s not the problem,” She added when Gandalf opened his mouth. “This morning at work I met the man who tried to catch me, turns out he’s some sort of detective investigating the break in. Not only has he met me, though he doesn’t know who I am, but apparently they’ve found some plant residue at the bank which could quite possibly lead back to me. I mean I am usually covered, I wear gloves and I tie my hair back. But I could have had leaves or something stuck to my shoes. Goodness knows I have enough plants in my house for that,” She took a deep breath. Gandalf smiled.

“My dear I sincerely doubt that it could ever lead back to you. I am fairly certain that there are a great number of people in this city who come into contact with plants on a regular basis. I believe you are worrying about nothing. This detective has no reason to be suspicious of you,”

“He does actually,” Bella muttered. At that Gandalf turned towards her, eyebrows raised. “I told him that all Smaug’s men do is beat up innocent civilians. Or something like that,”

“Burglar—“ Gandalf’s voice was a mixture of weariness, anger and exasperation.

“I couldn’t help myself, he was being overbearing,”

“Have you heard anything else from this detective?”

“No,”

“Then I would council you to continue as if nothing happened. You won’t be seeing him again. I am sure Smaug’s men know they aren’t liked. Just keep your head down and—“

“Don’t draw attention to myself. I know,” Bella found Gandalf’s advice rather unhelpful. She refrained from glaring at him. If that was all the help he could offer she might as well leave. She pulled up her hood.

“Until next time Burglar,” He said as she cracked open the door.

“Yeah whatever old man,” She told him, throwing a grin over her shoulder as she darted into the night.

She met no one on the trip home but the lingering weight of the meeting pressed on her mind. It made the dampness seem fouler, as though sickness was already in the air. The rain seemed to burn against her face. Her hair escaped her braid, sticking to her cheeks and neck despite her hood. Yet again she clambered up the walls to get into her flat, her shoulder burned at the effort. She tumbled onto her floor to be greeted by warm fur and purring.

“Fine, I’ll feed you. Just stop with the…Mind the lilies you idiotic cat,” She nudged the creature with her foot. Myrtle skittered out the way with an indignant hiss. Bella almost smiled at that, the sudden return to normalcy as jarring as it was welcome. She ran her fingers along the knobs of the cat’s spine. Myrtle tolerated this as Bella was currently opening a tin of cat food, which was the only time she would allow herself to be stroked. Bella fixed herself a bowel of cereal, too tired and lazy to make anything more elaborate. She showered, scrubbing her already-damp hair with her favourite lilac shampoo. She scrubbed at her skin as though the very air of the city had polluted her. The bathroom tiles were cold against her feet, she curled her toes. Her mind was still troubled by the detective. She mulled his name over, tasting it. _Thorin Oakenshield._ The botanist in her approved of his surname. She didn’t quite understand why she was obsessing over him quite this much. After all Gandalf was probably right, he wasn’t going to arrest her now. She frowned as she slid into bed, telling herself firmly to let it go. It was probably those damn eyes. And that vaguely amused smile. She turned over pulling her duvet to her neck. Her dreams were troubled again, by darkness and a deadly mist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila my dears. Hope you enjoy.


	5. Of Musings and Battle Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to give a heads up here for those who may be affected. Bella is attacked.

Of the many things Bella found saddening lately, the lack of enjoyment gained from her job was amongst the highest. She was listless and unable to concentrate. It wasn’t that she disliked it, or even wished herself elsewhere. She just found herself gazing out the window more often than usual. Her hands pausing in their task, her mind caught on some abstract worry that didn’t quite have a form. She hoped that once the nightmare she was battling had ended she would rediscover her former enthusiasm for plant taxonomy. But there was a niggling voice in her head that whispered that she could never return to how it was before. She had had a taste of adventure, of fear and darkness. This opened a different world to her, one that had previously only existed in stories. It had changed her. She would not be the same person once the rebellion was over. Bella wasn’t sure how she felt about this. Yes, the world seemed suddenly so much bigger but she also wished that she could find all she could ever need in a comfy armchair with a book across her knees. She wished that she could still curl her hands around a cup of tea and stare out the window without wondering what lay beyond the horizon.

To her surprise and delight it had finally stopped raining when she finished work. She decided on impulse that she would walk home. A decision that was later revealed not to be wise.

She usually avoided seeing the city as she did now. In the stark grey light of early evening. It was a depressing sight. A city stained grey, lives turned to ash _Fear in a handful of dust. An unreal city_. A city of broken dreams and dying embers. She shook her head at her own melodramatic musings. Quoting poetry to oneself is never a sign of sanity. She focussed instead on the fairer aspects. There was still beauty in the unseen corners of the city, places where hidden weeds flowered. Places of unfenced existence. She caught glimpses of this beauty sometimes, out of the corner of her eye. It flittered away to quickly to focus on but lingering just long enough for you to now it was there. The private smile shared between a woman and her lover. The raucous glee of a child chasing a pigeon. The paint-stained fingers of a street artist who silently insists that the sky is still blue. There is always strength to be found in the little things. The girl, young enough to only ever remember Smaug, who smiles at strangers. The old man with withered skin who whispers wonderful stories to children who flock to him like birds to bread.

_People find ways,_ Bella thought, _people find ways to escape. To be happy even in the darkest of times._ The thought made her feel warm despite the cold wind stinging her cheeks. Once Smaug was gone the city would flourish again. The sun would shine out all the clearer for the darkness it had endured.

As she got closer to home there were fewer and fewer people around. The scuff of her shoes on the pavement seemed suddenly loud. She felt a sudden, worrying chill as she glanced at the darkening sky. Maybe walking home hadn’t been the best idea. It wasn’t a long walk, little under two hours, but without taking a detour it led through uglier parts of the city. Through the places you went to purchase what couldn’t be found elsewhere. The places where the city and what lay under it grew closer. The paths to the underworld. An underworld that had been thriving since Smaug came to power. He made vast amounts of money of the desperate and the greedy. As far as Bella knew he didn’t openly encourage it. But as long as substantial bribes were paid, a blind eye was turned to any unsavoury activities. This had drawn vile characters from far around, parasites that carved a niche in the underworld. She shivered and drew her coat tight about her shoulders. She had ventured down there often enough upon instructions to steal weapons. They were a vicious bunch, blood-thirsty and, more often than not, broken, with glinting eyes and grabbing hands. Laughing upon thrones of wrongly acquired wealth. Bella was aware how hypocritical it was for her to find their thievery distasteful, after all what made one Burglar better than another.

She had walked home along this route many times before but tonight it was late. There was something about darkness that made her fearful when she didn’t have a mask hiding her features or, more likely, it was the lack of knives at her hip. She wasn’t scared yet, she knew she could defend herself better than most against thieves, or worse, but that hardly put her at ease. She didn’t want to be breaking jaws so early into her weekend especially after a long week.

She kept her head down as she strode purposefully past a graffitied pub. Its patrons spilled out into the street. She drew a few whistles but nothing worse. She tried not to glare and kept her hands clenched in her pockets. _No breaking noses Bella_. She didn’t relax even when the noise faded behind her. Her muscles tensed even more when sounds of laughter drifted from an alley up ahead. She slowed and made to march straight past when a shrill scared voice pierced the greasy laughter. She stopped and peered into the darkness. Three large shadows skulked there all distracted by a fourth much-smaller shape. Bella cursed to herself, as much as she didn’t want a confrontation she wouldn’t, couldn’t turn her back on a situation like this. She stepped closer, suddenly wishing she were bigger or that she had the threatening sleekness of her catsuit to lend her credibility. Her floral dress would hardly help in driving these men away. Maybe it would give her the element of surprise.

“Let her go,” She said, loudly and clearly. Her stance was firm and confident and her voice didn’t shake. The men stepped back in surprise, though the one with his hand around the shaking girl’s arm didn’t release her. They were all bald and tattooed. Bella suspected they were part of some gang. She scanned the girl’s face and bit down on the sudden surge of white-hot anger that replaced the tremors of fear. She didn’t look hurt but the sheer terror in her eyes was enough to make Bella want to beat the men until her fists were bloody.

“Ere Tom, there’s another one,” The one who had spoken took a step closer to her, a smile spreading across his mangled features. A sliver of doubt wormed her way through her anger, even with an element of surprise she doubted she could take on all three of them. She ignored it, clenching her fists at her side.

“Let. Her. Go,” She insisted.

“I ‘fink two will be far better for the three of us than just one, don’t ‘cha Bert?” it was the one Bert had addressed as Tom who had spoken. The third was still silent, his hand gripping the girl’s arm.

“I ‘fink so too Tom. Grab her will you. We’ll see if she tastes nice,” Bert leered at her as he said this. Bella let out a slow steadying breath as Tom lumbered towards her. As long as they attacked her one at the time she should be fine. She would break him for touching that girl, for trying to touch her. Fire boiled in her veins. She ducked under his grasping arm and hooked her foot around his ankle. He crashed to the ground with a shout, she heard a crack. She stamped her foot down as hard as she could on the back of his knee before he could scramble to his feet. She brought her foot down again, heel first on his ankle. It snapped beneath her foot. One of his friends shouted and she heard the thud of heavy feet. She whirled around just in time to dodge out of the way of Bert as he swung towards her. His hand caught her cheek and nose and she slammed into the wall of the alley. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt it warm on her chin, dripping on to her shirt. Tom was still on the ground; she had clearly incapacitated him with her stamping. She let out a snarl of satisfaction as Bert came at her again. She was too slow and he caught her against the wall, his breath hot and foul on her face. She struggled against the weight of his arm. But she had lost the advantage; he was stronger and heavier than her. Once she was pinned there wasn’t enough movement available for her to do damage. She head-butted him but he reared backwards before she could do any damage. She spat, her fingers clawing at his face. She felt a surge of satisfaction at the marks she left.

“You little bitch,” He growled “I am going to make you scream,” He grasped her wrists, yanking them above her head, high enough that she had to stand on tiptoes. She swung a knee towards his groin but he twisted just in time. Her knee met his thigh instead, a thigh he then forced between hers. His hand grasped her skirt and his friend, the one who had pinned the other girl, shouted encouragement. She could see him over Bert’s shoulder. He was apparently too distracted by the fight to pay attention to the girl.

“If you touch me, I will hurt you,” She spat at the one holding her. His hand was inching towards the hem of her dress. She struggled against his hold, her shoulders burning.

“There’s nothing you can do,” He whispered in her ear, seeming delighted by the fact.

Bella felt true fear course through her for the first time. She was truly stuck, her legs pinned by his, her hands gripped. She ached for a knife. She would shove it through his eye and tear him limb from limb. Monsters like these men shouldn’t be walking the streets of this city. She spat in his face, a mixture of blood and saliva, too angry for words, too scared to think straight.

“You are making it worse little girl. You’ve already ‘urt Tom. I don’t like that,” His hand tightened on her thigh, tearing the cloth of her tights.

She swore at him.

“What is going on here?” The new voice was like thunder, low and familiar. Bella turned her head towards the end of the alley from whence it came. She recognized who it was and felt relief at his arrival war with the burning all-consuming hatred for the three monsters around her.

“Move on officer,” The man holding the other girl growled, “There’s nothing to see here,”

“Release them,”

“I don’t ‘fink we will,” Bert’s free hand, the one that hand been around Bella thigh circled the throat. The fingers rough and bruising. She thrashed in his hold, trying to bite his hand. He pressed harder, she gasped for breath.

What happened next, happened very fast. The newcomer moved forwards, a gun in his hand. Bert slammed Bella back into the wall, cracking her skull against the stone. He then let go and she slumped to the floor. The last thing she saw was the shadow of another figure and a flash of blinding light.


	6. Of Dreams and Scrambled Eggs

The air was heavy with the smell of wildflowers, the trees laden with vibrant leaves. She felt good dark earth beneath her feet and summer-rich wind in her hair. The hills stretched out before her, green under the swift sunrise. For the first time in many years she felt her lungs fill properly. Sweet clean air. And she realized that she had been starving for the feeling for far too long. She was in Hobbiton, far to the west of her current home, a place where time seemed to stand still. Where more than one farmer still used a horse and cart over a tractor. Her childhood home was behind her, overgrown with wisteria laden with flowers that swayed heavily in the wind. It was a fertile land, a fair land. Untouched by war or hunger, prosperous and gentle. And the sun, so incredibly warm on her shoulders and arms. She tipped her head back and felt her muscles turn to liquid. Warm hands curled around her upper arms from behind. She tipped her head back against his chest and his arms wound around her waist. _Peace_.

The darkness was a shock as she jerked awake; heart pounding despite the fact the dream had been far from exerting. She didn’t sit up; she didn’t even open her eyes. Intense pain centred in the back of her head made her groan. She lifted a clumsy hand to quest towards the source of the pain, she encountered hair matted and stiff by what she suspected was blood.

“You’re awake. Here,” An arm slipped under her shoulders and helped her into a sitting position. She moaned as the throbbing in her head intensified. Slowly she cracked open her eyes. Her fingers reached for the back of her head again as though her touch would sooth the dull ache.

“Do you know who you are?” The person holding her asked. She blinked at him, a familiar face coming into focus. She groaned again. “Miss Baggins?” There was a worried note to his enquiry.

“Do you not think it defeats the purpose of the question if you give the answer straight afterwards?” The words were broken and rough. “I’m fine, I think,”

She swayed as his grip loosened. “However, I do think—“ She was unable to continue as she pressed her hand over her mouth to hold back the wave of nausea the movement had brought on. A bowl was placed onto her knees and she spat bile into it. He held her hair back in a gesture that was uncomfortably intimate. She didn’t push him away despite the fact that the brush of his fingers against the back of her neck made her want to shiver. She spat again, her mouth tasting vile. He took the bowl away replacing it with a glass of water. She drank gratefully, it cleared her head slightly.

“Where am I?” She croaked.

“My house,” He replied. He was crouched beside her, his grey eyes bright beneath a furrowed brow. She was unsure of how she felt about his reply but she pushed her concern away in favour of a more pressing question.

“What happened to the girl?” Bella asked, wincing when her voice cracked. He looked away, his hands curling into fists on his thighs, his jaw clenched. He took a deep breath before turning back to her.

“Did you not know her?” He asked in quiet surprise. Bella suppressed a shiver of irritation when he didn’t answer her question immediately.

“No,” She answered his question tersely.

“She’s unhurt. Terrified, but unhurt. One of my men accompanied her home. Her name is Daisy, she wanted me to thank you.” The last was said in a soft voice, almost gentle. He studied her face in the dim light. Bella looked away feeling rather warm at his tone.

“And what happened to…” She trailed off, unable to force the words out. He stood brusquely, the movement sent a surge of fear through Bella and she reared back. This in turn caused a new wave of pain to flood through her body. She grimaced. Thorin looked distraught in the dim light, he reached one hand out towards her but dropped it before he could touch her. She shook off the silly fear and sat forwards again. She let out a long shuddering breath.

“Sorry,” She muttered, pushing her hair off her face and grimacing at the feel of the dirty strands.

“It’s fine,” He paused, studying her, “I’m sorry this happened to you Miss Baggins,” His voice was low and sincere. It did something to Bella’s insides that she wasn’t entirely sure was unpleasant. She clenched her fists. Her instinct was to fervently assure him that it wasn’t his fault. But there was another voice inside her that screamed that it was. It was his men who let such vile creatures roam the streets, he may not be responsible for the incident but he was far from blameless. She turned her face away. She wanted to ask him if he really was sorry. To tell him that the same thing happened to hundreds of woman in the city and more often than not they didn’t have anyone to help them. They didn’t even have any one to turn to afterwards. She wanted to scream at him. To ask him why someone whose eyes could be so gentle could be part of such a brutal organisation. Bella could feel tears welling but she withheld them. She wouldn’t cry here.

“My men dealt with them. They will be found when it gets light. They will never touch anyone again,” He spoke flatly, none of the anger in his eyes could be heard in his voice. She gave him a curt nod not letting the sudden warm relief that flooded her show on her face. She had other questions of course but she withheld them. She didn’t want to accidently let something important slip because she was feeling too dozy to filter her words.

“I’m sorry to impose like this but can I use your shower?” Thorin looked slightly taken-aback by the question. Bella hurried to justify herself. “It’s just I don’t want to get the Tube home with blood all over me,” She found herself blushing, for no reason at all. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“You will not be getting the tube home Miss Baggins, I will drive you. But yes, you may take a shower,” Bella opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand and vanished from the room. Bella shook her head. She got unsteadily to her feet, clutching at the arm of the sofa she had been lying on. If she were a spy, she would be using these few moments alone to study the room. After all it seemed to her that Detective Oakenshield was far from an insignificant member of Smaug’s army. He had a fair few men under his control, he could fight ( _not as well as her_ , she added smugly) and he had been one of the first on the scene when the bank had been robbed. A wealth of information about the enemy could be uncovered in this dimly lit room. But Bella was not a spy and the idea of invading his privacy so intimately disturbed her. As such she kept her eyes on her feet and focused on not swaying. She was still wearing her tights and dress though her boots had been removed. Her tights were still ripped, great gaping holes across her thighs. She shivered, the urge to be rid of them, to wash invisible filth from her skin, made her hands twitch. She clenched them at her sides. She would not go into hysterics in the sitting room of a man who belonged to Smaug.

“Here Miss Baggins,” Thorin entered the room again with a bundle of cloth and a towel in his hands. She took it.

“Just call me Bella,” She muttered. He gave her a small smile. Bella noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled as he did so.

“The bathroom is just down the hall,” He responded standing aside to let her through the doorway. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she past and she caught the sudden smell of pine and metal. She bit her lip.

She sat carefully of the toilet-seat to remove her tights. Her knuckles were bruised she noticed idly. She then pulled off her dress and underwear and stepped into the shower. The hot water almost made her moan. It stung her scalp at first but she ignored the slight twinge in favour of concentrating on the delightful warmth on her sore shoulders. She sighed, content to just stand there in a steamy daze. She shook her head. She needed to be alert. She slowly ran her fingers through her hair; the water that trickled down her shoulders was rusty red. Bella studied the bottles on the rack in the shower before pulling out one marked shampoo. She scrubbed it into her hair, carefully working around the injury. She rinsed and repeated until the water ran clean and she had teased out most of the tangles. She scrubbed the rest of her body raw determined to remove all traces of unwanted touches. She stepped out and dried herself before examining the clothes Thorin had presented her with. A pair of jeans, far too big for her but still distinctly feminine. She frowned at that. Whom did they belong to? A wife? Girlfriend? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She had to roll the legs up a few times but the waist wasn’t overly loose. The other item was a large shirt that swallowed her. Even buttoned up to the top the neckline drooped low. She rolled the sleeves up and gathered her dirty clothes from the floor. She would throw them away; she couldn’t bear the idea of the fabric touching her skin. She shuddered and felt a wave of panic rise up inside her. She stamped it down firmly. She could have a freak-out when she was safely back in her flat.

She padded barefoot into the sitting room. It was empty but she caught sight of her bag on the floor near the sofa, she shoved her clothes in.

The floorboards above her creaked and she tensed, she could hear the low murmur of voices. The low one was unmistakably Thorin’s, she didn’t recognize the other one. She sat on the sofa, trying to ignore the sounds. She tugged at her wet hair and her eyes inadvertently darted around the room. She caught herself smiling when she saw that the walls were lined with bookshelves. _It doesn’t mean anything Bella, there are lots of people who enjoy reading._ But she couldn’t help but feel a tiny trickle of respect for the man. Anyone who read this much couldn’t be completely bad. These were not wise thoughts, she decided. She shouldn’t be trying to humanize someone who worked for Smaug. She could only guess at the despicable things he had done in the service of his master. She stared determinedly at her clenched hands, ignoring the voice that encouraged her to peruse his collection of titles. 

“Are you hungry Miss Baggins…Bella?”

She started and turned to find Thorin standing in the doorway again. She felt she should refuse but the hollowness of her stomach made her decision for her. She nodded and followed him into his utilitarian kitchen. There was a table pushed against the window that looked out into the street. The sky was pink with the early blush of morning. She sat in one of the chairs, pulling one knee up to her chest. She watched the purple clouds roll across the sky for a few moments, they reminded her of her dream. She felt the ghost of warm hands on her upper arms. When she glanced over at Thorin she found him watching her. She swallowed. There was a dark intensity in his eyes that made her heart beat slightly faster. She settled her gaze once again on her fingers.

“Tea?” His voice was dark, almost husky. It took her a few moments to reply.

“Yes please,”

“Milk?”

“Yes,”

“Sugar?”

“No,”

He set a mug before her and she curled her hands around it gratefully. She could still feel his gaze on her.

“Are scrambled eggs alright?” He asked. She looked up at him with a small smile. “I’m a useless cook I’m afraid but I can manage scrambled eggs. My sister always told me I should learn to cook _something_ else,” He smiled sadly at the last and turned away from Bella to pull down a saucepan.

“Scrambled eggs are fine,” Bella said, unable to keep the warmth out of her voice. She should hate the man but she understood that that was not going to happen. Hopefully after today she would never see him again, but then again that was what she had said last time. She sipped her tea and tried not to stare at the strong definition of his forearms as he cracked the eggs into a bowl. She flushed at turned her gaze back to the window. She finally felt alert enough to ask some more questions.

“What happened last night?” She spoke carefully, weighing each word before speaking. He paused in his movements, his back to her. He sighed.


	7. Of Awkwardness and Hidden Strength

“How much do you remember?” He asked quietly.

“I remember you arriving and getting slammed against the wall. Not much else,”

“My men and I were…patrolling,” The last word was selected with difficulty. Bella was instantly suspicious. “I heard you shouting so I investigated. They were outnumbered, we took them down,” Bella didn’t need clarifications to know who ‘ _they’_ referred to.

“I saw a flash of light,” There was a question in the statement. Again Thorin paused in his cooking. Bella could see that the muscles of his shoulders were tense beneath his shirt.

“Your head was slammed pretty hard,” Was his totally unsatisfactory answer. Bella didn’t argue though his tone made her bristle. The flash of light had been real. She stared mulishly at her tea. It wouldn’t do to argue.

“What—“

“It’s my turn to ask a question Bella,” He interrupted her. Bella slumped in her chair; she had been hoping that he would gloss over any interrogation. He scraped the eggs onto two plates and added some toast. He placed one before her and sat down across from her with his own plate. He was studying her again. She returned the favour. He was unshaven she noticed, she had the feeling his skin would be rough against her fingertips were she to reach out to touch his jaw. He spoke again and Bella forced herself to concentrate on the conversation.

“First of all, what on earth were you thinking walking alone through that quarter of the city at night?” He sounded angry and Bella felt a surge of fury boil beneath her skin.

“Why should I be afraid to walk alone at night? I shouldn’t have to be. It’s not my responsibility be afraid, but yours to ensure that I don’t _have_ to be,” She spoke heatedly. This was a matter she held to heart. She didn’t want to have her already limited freedom stolen from her piece by piece. _Don’t walk alone Bella. Don’t go out at night Bella. Don’t wear that skirt Bella._ She knew that personal freedom was a hard-won thing and she hated the idea she had to limit her own liberty because of the vile actions of other people. People like those men, _those trolls_ , from last night. Thorin grimaced, he didn’t answer her tirade. Bella turned back to her plate. This was exactly the kind of thing she shouldn’t say to one of Smaug’s minions. No matter how kind he had been, he was still one of _them_.

“How did you manage to take down the first man?” His tone wasn’t as demanding as she would have expected, more curious than anything else. Bella hesitated, her anger replaced by worry. Her leg bounced up and down under the table and she had to take conscious action to stop it. She had had training, Gandalf had taught her how to fight. But she could hardly tell him that. Thorin seemed to mistake her hesitation. “I’m glad you did Bella but I’m just curious as to how. Without trying to offend but it doesn’t look like you can take down a man that size with just your bare hands _,” Was that a smile she saw hovering at the corners of his mouth?_ Bella glared at him. Yes, she was aware she was short and that her prominent curves hardly spoke of a fighter.

“I’ll have you know that my mother taught me to defend myself.” She told him her nose in the air. This was true, Belladonna Baggins the First, born Belladonna Took, had ensured her daughter could fight, but certainly not to the level she had demonstrated last night. She didn’t add that however. Thorin nodded pensively.

“I’m glad. Not enough women know how to fight in this city,” Bella was flabbergasted and ever so slightly impressed. She didn’t quite know what to say so she concentrated on forking her eggs into her mouth. They were good, buttery with just the right amount of pepper. She stole a quick glance at Thorin to find him staring at the table with a distant expression. She studied him whilst he wasn’t watching her. He had dark circles under his eyes, much like her own, and his brows were drawn together in a sullen frown. There was something familiar about the sadness in his eyes, she felt that she had seen that same expression before. As she considered this his eyes flicked up to meet hers. She startled, the air seemed to buzz. Her breath hitched. She tore her gaze away from his stern grey one as realization crashed around her.

She was attracted to this man, this proud mysterious man with his amused smile and furrowed brows. She almost groaned. She did not need this; she most certainly didn’t want this.

Bella was someone who liked to be honest with herself, about the good and the bad. Admitting her attraction was being honest and it was most definitely bad. _He was the enemy._ She gathered her resolve firmly. Her attraction was just a fleeting response to his physical presence; it would fade once she left. She might be grumpy for a few days but she would get over it.  She was an adult for goodness’ sake, not some infatuated teenager. Not that you would know that from her racing pulse. With that she raised her head, able to meet his eyes without blushing.

“So are you really a detective?” She asked casually. Thorin froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Bella raised her eyebrows in surprise at his reaction; it had been an innocent question. He slowly placed his fork back on his plate.

“Why do you ask that?” He replied slowly, his eyes wary.

“Well I didn’t think that detectives wandered the streets with men under their control. Correct me if I’m wrong but I always thought it was a solo occupation,” Bella studied him. He relaxed, his whole body softening like butter in the sun. _Not that Thorin could ever be compared to butter_ , she thought, _he was far too tall and broad and dark for that._ She frowned; there was something odd about this man.

“It is.” He hesitated, sorrow flashing across his face, “I have a job with far more responsibility but sometimes I don’t want to entrust the more delicate detective work to my men for fear something will go wrong,” Bella watched him as he spoke knowing instinctively that he wasn’t telling the truth. But then again she could hardly expect him to, she was a commoner, he was an officer of the law. She almost snorted at that. _Of the law_ indeed. As if he knew what she was thinking Thorin glanced at her, his frown deepening. Bella hid her distain by taking a sip of tea.

“So do you live here alone?” Bella knew that she was toeing the line with this question. She was prying, so she wasn’t surprised at his answer. His eyes flicked to the ceiling before landing on her.

“Yes,”

She nodded, perfectly willing to accept the lie. She ate her last forkful of eggs. Her eyes wandered back to the window as she chewed.

“Have you always lived in Laketown?” Thorin asked curiously. He had a mug of coffee in one hand.

“Why do you ask?”

“You have an accent,” Bella was surprised at his perceptiveness. Few people noticed that she hadn’t quite mastered the clipped vowels and flat inflexions of this corner of the world. She smiled, there was no point lying about this, it would just make him suspicious.

“I came here sixteen years ago, when I was eleven.” She traced her finger through drops of spilt tea on the table. She scowled as she glanced back up at him. “I like to think I hide it quite well,” He laughed, deep and rich. Bella found herself smiling in response.

“You do,” He said, still smiling. Bella nodded at his answer, it was the correct one. She might get grumpy if he insinuated that her accent was anything less than perfect.

She was well aware of how strange the situation was. She, a major actor in the rebellion, he, the enemy she was fighting against. And they were sitting here having breakfast together and making pleasant conversation. All the while she was internally squirming at the definition of the muscles of his forearms. It was all too clichéd. Bella would like to think she was doing it to keep up her act, to ensure that he didn’t get suspicious of her. But deep down she knew that that was untrue. She cleared her throat.

“I have to go Thorin,” He studied her face before nodding.

“Let me get my keys. Your shoes are next to the door,” He collected their plates and dumped them in the sink. Bella stood and went to tug on her boots.

 

The ride home was silent, without any of the warmth they had shared in his kitchen. She got him to drop her off at a building a few streets away from hers. She thanked him and got out. As she did so, he reached towards her and pushed still-damp stand of hair behind her ear. Her heart stuttered and she scrambled to leave the car. Warmth spread through her cheeks.

When she got up to her flat, she curled into bed and cried. She pressed the sleeves of her borrowed shirt to her face and cried. Myrtle looked extremely disdainful of her tears but she couldn’t help it. Everything in her life was going haywire. She was attracted to someone she should hate, she was about to embark on a rebellion that could very well lead to her death, she could still hear the greasy laughter from the previous night in her ears. And the first of those explanations should really be insignificant yet it had been the first problem to spring to mind.

 She sobbed until she couldn’t cry anymore. Her face was blotchy and red. The shirtsleeves were damp though she could still smell that faint odour of pine, which didn’t help. She felt incredibly guilty. She was an adult, she felt that she should really be able to cope with the situation, but she couldn’t. She felt raw and lost. A small piece of driftwood caught in a current far bigger than her. She wouldn’t be the same at the end of this. She understood that now. She had hoped but those hopes had been in vain. She could never go back to being that smiling child, bright-eyed and full of wonder. She was now something new. The Burglar was a part of her now. It always would be. She could accept that, she _would_ accept that. She took a deep shuddering breath and went to make a cup of tea. For in all her life she had never had a problem so awful that a cup of tea didn’t make it just a little bit better. Tea, and then she would spend the rest of the day reading some fantasy book that spoke of fierce woman and impossible destinies. A book where the end seemed out of sight, where it seemed that darkness was all there was, where a small band of courageous heroes were all that stood between light and shadow. A book where those heroes triumphed in laughter and sunshine, where they stood on the last page surveying the world they had saved. A book when hope was never fruitless and good always won. That was the book she would be reading today.

 

And she did.

 

And that evening she felt better, warmer, safer. She felt that maybe the weight on her shoulders was not too heavy to bear, that she could carry it that much longer. She told herself that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and for a few shining moments, she believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next chapter. Hope you enjoy both Bella and Thorin being clueless.


	8. Of Restlessness and Revealed Responsibilities

Two weeks passed. Two weeks in which absolutely nothing happened. She didn’t attend any secret meetings, she didn’t rob any banks and she didn’t run into Thorin in some unlikely situation. It was _glorious_. Her injuries finally had time to heal. The aches in her shoulders, the bruises around her wrists, the scrapes on her knees, even the wound on her head stopped giving her grief whenever she tried to move. She spent peaceful evenings in her pyjamas with a cup of tea, she slept full nights, she   tended to her plants. Yet she found herself curled in her armchair in the evening with a book on her lap staring out the window wondering if any part of the rebellion was meeting that night. She found herself wondering what they were discussing, huddled in the rain as the trains rattled overhead, what they were preparing. Gandalf and Taleteller and the other planners were out there deciding how and when the coming storm would break. They were deciding her fate, their fate, everyone’s fate. And she was sitting here with a cup of tea. She understood that she was not part of that process; she wasn’t one of the ones that knew the whole plan. She would know only her part, when the time came. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. She increasingly felt nervous energy flooding her veins. It drove her to pace around her flat, tripping on Myrtle and cursing under her breath. She doodled pictures in the condensation on the window and gazed out into the rain feeling very melancholic. Behind her the television buzzed through Smaug’s usual message. She only caught a few words though her memory filled in the gaps. _“Dissention,” “Vile actions, ” “Rebellion,” “Punished”._ She tapped her knuckled on the window ledge impatiently. Hunger for action swelled inside her.

On a drizzly Tuesday morning of the third week of what she had come to call _boring peace_ , she caught sight of the strand of red thread. Bright against the cast-iron railings of the balcony, the ends fluttered in the wind. For the first time she felt relief at the sight of it. _Something was happening. She was needed_. Had they found it, this mysterious antidote? Did they know where Smaug was hiding it? Did they have more information on the chemical weapons being developed? She tugged on her coat for work as the questions flooded her mind. She knew that it would be expected of her to steal it and she desperately hoped that she would have some assistance. Robbing from one of Smaug’s banks was one thing, stealing something that was hidden deep in his fortress in the mountains was quite another. But she wouldn’t dwell on that, not until the time came. She was sure Gandalf would have a plan, a way of getting in.

Work seemed to drag on. The only highlight being an especially interesting species of crocus. She cooed over that for a while almost forgetting the coming meeting as she examined the bright yellow petals and the delicate pistil inside. She had eagerly summoned her colleagues to look at it, they had gathered some with similar excitement, others with gentle indulgence. It was then that Bella realized that excluding her work colleagues, Thorin and the members of the rebellion she hadn’t spoken to anyone else for over two months.  Myrtle of course didn’t count. It was rather pathetic. She always used to have a lively social life, attending parties every other week and chatting with Old Gaffer for hours. That had faded over the course of the last few years. She resolved to give her nephew a call at some point.

That evening she tugged on her fresh catsuit slightly earlier than usual. She couldn’t sit around much longer without going completely around the bend. So she stopped for a few instants on a rooftop, the cold wind tugged at her hair, whipping the strands across her face. She took a deep breath, smelling the petrol and the smoke in the air. In the distance, to the north she could see the golden lights of Smaug’s sprawling palace. They were the only brightness in a city that was otherwise dark. The street lamps had long ago sunk into disuse. No one could afford to pay for their upkeep and Smaug hardly gave a shit. They drew the eye, those lights, a siren’s call you could say. Her fingers twitched inside her gloves and the edges of her mask seemed to press harder than usual into the skin of her cheeks. The world seemed to pause around her, the wind was the only living thing. She imagined families frozen in their activities, a woman plaiting her hair, a boy feeding his dog, a stranger whose scarf flapped in the wind, a vibrant yellow against the grey stone of the surrounding houses. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers. A list of living breathing people with lives, hopes, relations and wonder. Humans. All brightness and fear and imminent disaster. Bella felt her blood freeze in her veins at what Smaug could do to them. At the horror he could cause. All these lives snuffed out by sickness. She felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for these people who were not _her_ people. She had not been born here but this was her home now. She would not let harm befall these lives whilst she was still breathing. She would be fierce though she was afraid, she would be strong despite her weaknesses. She would see the skies turn blue again, she would see the sun rise in the east, bright and pulsing and life-giving. She would give everything she had and then more.

Bella turned away from the sprawl of the city as the fire in her bones faded and she saw once again the darkness and the smoke and the factories. She slipped off the roof and into the night.

 

 

            “Who is it?”

            “The Burglar,”

            “Come in,”

            Gandalf stood back to let her pass. He had a strange expression on his face. He scanned her from head to toe with a mixture of something akin to concern edged with a little bit of admiration. It was a strange combination of sentiment, one that perplexed Bella. As far as Gandalf should know she hadn’t been getting in to trouble for a while. Not since the incident with the thugs in the alley. And he couldn’t know about that, could he? She shook off the trepidation and scanned the dirty room.

            There were five members inside; they all ignored her, too occupied with arguing over what looked like a map. Bella approached cautiously. She recognized Bowman who glanced up at her, as she got nearer. He offered her a small smile before turning back to the blond woman on his right. Archer was also there, he waved at her, she returned a weak grin. Bella was about to ask what they were doing when Gandalf took hold of her arm. He led her to the collection of rickety chairs in the corner. They were usually scattered around the table but they were currently not needed. Bella sat and looked up at him curiously. There was something sad in his gaze. He sat with a sigh. Bella knew what he was going to say before he said it. But that didn’t stop the awful clench of fear in her gut.

            “The rumours of chemical weaponry have been confirmed,” He paused studying her. She didn’t offer any reaction but a tightening of her fists. “One of my agents was able to get hold of a sample. We had it tested. Airborne poison, affects the lungs first off all. Deadly of course,” Bella resolved not to cry. After all this didn’t come as a surprise. They had all suspected that the rumours were true but that didn’t make confirmation any less frightening.

            “We have also received confirmation of an antidote. I have a high-placed agent who intercepted scientific correspondence. Smaug’s laboratories have developed an antidote codenamed the Arkenstone,” He trailed off then, still watching her intently.

            “The Arkenstone,” She repeated “And he’s planning on selling it?”

            “Yes,”

            “To those who can afford it,” Bella didn’t pose it as a question but a disgusted observation. The idea that someone could be that insane, that degenerated, that fucked-up left a sour taste in her mouth. Smaug was willing to kill thousands of people for gold and riches from those who could afford to pay. It sickened her. Profoundly.

            “So we have to steal this Arkenstone antidote,” She stated.

            “You will be the one stealing it. You are our Burglar after all,” He corrected gently. Bella nodded. She knew that this would be her role. She cast around for something to focus on, to hold on to as her hands shook.

            “What is Bowman planning?”

            “He is organizing the people’s revolution,”

            “Before we even have the antidote? What will happen if we don’t get our hands on it?” Bella asked an edge of hysteria to her voice. Gandalf’s eyes flickered away from hers; which told her all she need to know. “Oh, so no pressure or anything,” She croaked.

            “I’m sorry Burglar. But you are the only one who can do this,” He smiled kindly and reached forwards settling a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “You will not be alone,” He added firmly. But Bella could see what looked like pity in his eyes, or maybe it was compassion. He knew as well as she did that she may not make it out alive. She turned away; she didn’t want to see her own fears reflected back at her.

            “It is what we have been working towards for over five years, more for some. We can’t stumble now,” She murmured with far more strength than she felt. _You are fierce Bella, you are strong_ , she told herself. Hoping that this time she would believe it. There were people, thousands of people who needed her as much as she needed them.

            “So I steal the antidote, you distribute it amongst the people and they take back the city from Smaug,” Bella summarized with a weak smile. “That doesn’t sound so hard,” She added to alleviate some of the heaviness.

            “Walk in the park,” Agreed Gandalf.

            They both glanced over to the gathering of people around the table who had broken into hushed argument. They were all jabbing at different spot on the map and shaking their heads angrily. Bella watched them, their hidden faces illuminated by the glow of the torch that weighted down one corner of the map. She hoped that one day she would look on their faces, that she could greet them as friends. That she would know which one had children and which one was a baker. One day, she resolved, she would know their names. Their real names.

            Someone knocked on the door, heavy and sharp. Everyone fell silent, muscles tensed and hands reached for weapons. No one else was expected that night. Bella slipped one of her throwing knives into her palm; she had forgone her gun once again. She held the blade loosely ready to impale whoever-it-was. Gandalf had leapt to his feet and moved to the door, he reached for the long stick he liked to fight with. _Suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door,_ Bella found herself quoting. She almost let out a panicked laugh. Her father would be very pleased with her, quoting poetry even in a situation as dangerous as this. The person thundered at the door once more. Thundered being a relative word. In the silence it seemed deafening but in reality it was just a light tap. The person outside spoke, Bella couldn’t hear what he said but Gandalf leapt into action at the words.

            “Smaug knows where we are! We must leave!” He shouted at them, throwing the door open. His words hung on the air for an instant before chaos erupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To avoid confusion, I thought I would just post a list of the aliases used.  
> Archer is Kili, Burglar is Bella, Bowman is of course Bard, Taleteller is Balin, Tattoo is Dwalin. And there are more to come of course.   
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. Over 100 Kudos, you guys are brilliant, luminous, vibrant and incredibly, astoundingly sweet.


	9. Of Running and Raucous Gunfire

 

Bowman shoved the map into a bag, gathered his weapons and urged the other members out the door. Bella was close on his heels, Archer next to her. Gandalf was standing just outside the door with the man who had warned them of the arrival of Smaug’s men. He was stooped, slightly younger than Gandalf. His mask was askew and his greying brown hair stuck up in all directions. He had a tie covered with birds around his neck; Bella didn’t have the time to ponder this absurdity. He was breathing hard and jabbering at Gandalf, his eyes wild. Bella could hear the baying of dogs in the distance and the shouts of men. They were getting closer. Bowman and the others scattered in all directions. They would get away in time. Archer stuck to her side. She was about to start running when Gandalf grabbed her arm. She jolted to a halt.

            “Come with me,” He ordered her. She nodded, sensing the urgency in his tone. She knew that he had more left to tell her.

            “I’ll distract them,” Said the wonky-masked stranger. 

            “Radagast, they have dogs,” Gandalf warned, his eyes darting in the direction of the barking. Bella flinched at the sudden clatter of gunfire, she hoped that whoever it had been aimed at had got away.

            “I’ll run fast,” Said Radagast with a grin that bordered on slightly extremely crazy.

            “Radagast—“

            “Go my friend,” He patted Gandalf’s shoulder and with that parting he darted off, flashing muddy brown trainers. He let out a loud shout, which was echoed by the men with the dogs. They were close enough that Bella could see the light from their torches bouncing off the surrounding buildings. She whirled towards Gandalf. He watched Radagast leave with fondness in his eyes. The chatter of gunfire brought him back to his senses, he set off at a run. Bella was close behind, struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride. Archer, bless him, remained behind her although she was certain he could easily outpace her should he wish to. He had a crossbow across his back. Bella assumed that was how he had gained his nickname.

 

            “Where are we going?” She asked between laboured breaths. Her feet slapped the ground hard. Running was not the type of exercise she usually engaged in. She was a Burglar, she was sneaky and quiet and hidden. On the rare occasions she did get seen, she would hide rather than run. This usually worked out well for her, but it didn’t seem to be Gandalf’s tactic. Bella did have the sneaking suspicion he was running with a purpose other than simply getting away. He was leading them somewhere. But her question was answered with a grunt, which was not satisfactory. Bella was prevented from asking again by his sudden surge of speed. Bella cursed him violently and creatively under her breath and sped up. If the situation weren’t so dire she was sure that Archer would be merrily mocking her.

 

            Gandalf was leading them through twisted streets in a vaguely western direction. He skidded to a halt occasionally, pressing against the wall as a band of well-armed soldiers clattered by. The shouts were falling behind them; Radagast must be doing a good job of misleading them. Bella winced as gunfire sounded through the night again. Gandalf pressed against the wall. Bella slid to a halt behind him, narrowly avoiding clattering into the overflowing bins that clustered around the exit off the alley. Archer pressed one hand to her shoulder as he peered past them. The alley led on to a wide-open square, probably once used for the unloading of goods arriving from the river. There was a cluster of enormous deserted warehoused on the other side. The square in itself was also deserted and Bella fell a prickle of unease. She glanced at Gandalf and he confirmed with a nod that they would indeed be crossing the open space. She frowned; there was no cover, nothing to protect them from prying eyes.

            “This is not going to end well,” She muttered. Archer grunted in agreement and Gandalf shushed them. He shifted his grip on his weighted stick and scanned the area. Bella followed his example, her heart beating fast, not just from the run but from fear. She had put away her throwing knife when she had realized that Radagast was not the enemy but now she pulled it from her belt again. Archer had the same idea, his crossbow settled comfortably in his hands, a bolt slotted into it.

            “Ready?” Gandalf asked, his eyes bright in the dark night, his heavy brows furrowed. Bella gave a curt nod and Archer grinned. Bella would have rolled her eyes at him if she weren’t so worried about how large the space in front of them seemed. She had a sudden vision of her running across, the crack of a gun, the impact of a bullet and her blood trickling between the cobblestones. She grimaced at the vision. _Don’t be morbid, Bella_.

           

Gandalf moved out silently, Bella and Archer followed. Despite the omnipresent darkness the square seemed to be illuminated. Sparse moonlight filtered through the dirty clouds. They were so visible, so definitely unequivocally _there_. Bella shivered and walked faster. For a few moments it seemed as though they would reach the warehouses unseen. But alas, this was not to be. When a shout sounded Bella couldn’t help thinking _typical_. They whirled around to see four men with a large snarling dog enter the square from behind them. Another emerged from the shadowy warehouses. The three of them were trapped. The five men were all cradling mean looking guns.

            “Put down your weapons,” one shouted.

            “Run!” Gandalf yelled, charging towards the solitary man by the warehouses. The thug swung the gun forwards pointing it at Gandalf. Bella threw her knife. It flew straight and true and hit the guard in the shoulder with a solid thud. He dropped the gun with a clatter. Thankfully it didn’t go off. Archer grunted his approval. Bullets slammed into the ground at their feet, Bella flung herself out the way. She rolled clumsily to her feet already muttering under her breath at the bruises she had received. Gandalf had vanished into the darkness. She cursed and fumbled at her belt for another knife, swearing at herself for not bringing her gun. Archer fired his crossbow and one of them stumbled, in doing so the dog was released. It changed at them. Archer struggled to reload his weapon. Bella was about to throw her next knife when Gandalf called them. She grabbed Archer’s arm and tugged him towards where she had heard Gandalf. The dog snarled, its paws skidded on the cobblestones. Bella pulled them both out of its way. It whirled back to attack. _And I call myself a dog person,_ she thought frantically. She leapt the prone body of the man with her knife in his shoulder, he was groaning. _Still alive then_. She felt a slight twinge of relief at the thought. Bella couldn’t stop to grab her knife, which was a damn shame as decent throwing knives were a pain to get her hands on in this day and age. But she would lament it later. They slipped through the door of the warehouse just as the dog slammed into it, snarling. Bella shoved her shoulder against it. Archer pressed against it behind her, he huffed when the dog slammed into the door again making it jerk on its hinges. She could hear the remaining three guards thunder across the square; She and Archer couldn’t hold them off alone.

            Suddenly there were more voices outside, shouts and gunfire echoed. The door shuddered again, almost throwing Bella to the floor. She scrambled to brace herself against it. The gunfire died and after a few indistinct shouts silence fell. Bella and Archer backed cautiously away from the door. After a few moments Bella was about to peer outside when Gandalf called again. She could just make him out against the opposite wall of the warehouse. Bella squinted and noticed with a start that there was another figure there, a blurred shape in the darkness. She could hear the low rumble of someone speaking, whoever it was sounded angry, demanding and full of pain. The voice sounded somehow familiar, she took a step closer, Archer at her side. But just as she did so the figure pulled open a door at the opposite end of the warehouse and vanished through it. She felt a curious desire to reach out after whoever it was, perhaps is was the pain in his tone as he spoke, though she couldn’t hear his words. She shook the feeling off.

           

“Gandalf what are we doing here? Who was that?” demanded Archer, finally getting impatient. His hand was poised on the way to the door handle, ready to yank it open to see what had happened outside. Gandalf sighed and approached them.

            “That was Prince. He is a very high placed invaluable agent.” The last part seemed to be added for Bella as she caught a flash of recognition in Archer’s eyes at the name. She wasn’t surprised, Archer was a fighter, and he knew far more members of the rebellion than she did. Her part in the rebellion was far more of a solitary position.  “As for what you are doing here, I wanted to introduce Bella to someone. He has provided us with vital information that will be needed if we are to steal the Arkenstone,” He glanced at Bella, his eyes bright in the dim light.

            “Where is he then?” Archer demanded. Bella didn’t say anything, her eyes strayed back to the doors, she really wanted to see what had happened to the men with the guns.

            “I am here Master Archer,” Came a low voice from the other side of the door. It creaked open revealing a tall man. The dim moonlight outside shone off the high dome of his forehead. From what Bella could make out of his features he had a stern look about him, his mouth turned down at the corners and his long hair was bound back. Past him Bella caught a glimpse of the square. Shadows moved across it, carrying away the bodies of the men who had been chasing them. Bella felt the warmth of gratefulness tinged by the rougher edge of guilt. Those men were foul creatures; so deep in Smaug’s pocket they couldn’t remember what life was like before. But did they deserve to die? Does anyone ever deserve to die? Bella didn’t like to think of the lives that would undoubtedly be lost over the course of this rebellion. Lives on both sides. She had got very adept at the whole ‘burying your head in the sand thing’ when it came to that. She could ponder the lives she could help save for hours but at the thought of those others, the ones who would die, her blood ran cold. Bella called it ‘ _being an optimist’_ her mother would say she wasn’t facing the facts. That ignoring it wouldn’t make it any less true. She shivered and turned her attention back to the strange man.

            “Who are you?” She demanded with uncharacteristic force. He turned his gaze to her. His eyes flicked over her from head to toe and he glanced at Gandalf, one eyebrow raised. Bella did not like that expression, she frowned at him.

            “You are the Burglar?” He asked. Bella nodded tightly, the man glanced at Gandalf as if for confirmation. Bella gritted her teeth. Sometimes the arrogance and presumptuousness of the men in the rebellion got her extremely frustrated. Just because she was a woman and short at that, she inspired raised eyebrows and disbelief. The man seemed to sense her annoyance because he turned back to her and inclined his head in silent apology.

            “Then I am honoured to meet you. I am Elrond,”

 

 


	10. Of Anger and Shocking Truths

“Is that your real name?” asked Bella in surprise.

            Elrond glanced at Gandalf before nodding.

            “Elrond has no need to fear being caught, he does not come from Laketown. Smaug will never find him,” Gandalf explained. Archer was pacing back and forth across the dusty floor. He looked tense and impatient and angry. He wouldn’t look at Elrond.

            “What is he doing here then?” He demanded, Bella could sense the nervous energy in him. When the same occurred in her she walked, but in him there was an edge of violence that worried her. She wanted to reach out, to lay a calming hand on his arm but she doubted he would appreciate the gesture. She kept her hands to herself.

 

            “I had vital information,” Elrond sighed, he rubbed one hand over his face. “I have little love for this city, when I come here I see only greed and sorrow.” He shook his head sadly. Bella caught a glimpse of Archer’s balled fists out of the corner of her eye. “But I am also a Healer. I hate to see such hunger, such despair. Five years ago, Gandalf contacted me with a request. He needed me to provide a refuge for those too weak to survive here and too important to die. I live in the city of Rivendell, far to the West; there we know only peace. Any darkness that crosses our borders is swiftly eliminated. I was hesitant, at first, to allow the dangers of Laketown to seep into the refuge of Rivendell, but I accepted. Over the course of the last five years I have welcomed many people into my home. But just two weeks ago someone was brought who had information that could change the very nature of the war you are fighting,” He stopped with an uncertainty that sat uneasily on his regal features.

            “I will tell her,” Gandalf said. Bella glanced at him, suddenly sensing a great weight in the air, brought on by secrets unspoken. There was something wrong here, something she hadn’t been told.

            “When Smaug first started developing his chemical weaponry, he had to be sure it worked. He couldn’t unleash it onto the city untested. So he took people, people he thought wouldn’t be noticed if they went missing. Men, woman and children. The poor mainly, the lost and the broken. But they were sons and daughters and mothers and fathers nonetheless. He strapped them to beds and tested poison after poison on them. He killed many of them and the rest subsisted in unbearable agony. He experimented on them, he tortured them and we don’t even know most of their names. He burnt the bodies when they could no longer be of use to him. When they were too broken to survive any more tests. This was how he developed his chemical weapon,”

 

            Bella’s hands were shaking, she couldn’t speak. Her logical side was telling her that deep down she knew that this had to have happened. But her overwhelming compassion had hidden that thought. She felt tears spring to her eyes and wave after wave of white-hot fury burnt inside her. She turned her face away to hide the uncontrolled emotions that were only partially hidden by her mask. Elrond spoke again, taking over from Gandalf.

            “Gandalf’s agents, the ones inside Smaug’s complex have been trying to get these people out and away. They have only succeeded with two of them. A woman, who was freed two years ago and a man who was freed just over two weeks ago. They have both been driven insane by the foul actions of Smaug. The woman we lost track of. The agent who got her out told us she had gone missing. The man was brought to me by the same agent,”

            Bella nodded her understanding and she fought to stay clinical. To not drown in her fear and anger and desperation. She was too small for this. Too weak. There was a sudden clatter, loud after the hushed voice of Elrond. Bella span towards the source to see that Archer had slammed his fist into a wall sending a shower of plaster raining towards the floor. He was cursing under his breath, a steady stream of words so bitter and broken that Bella knew. She knew that Archer was not just a part of the rebellion because he believed the people needed to be free. Something had happened to him, he had been hurt, or someone he loved had been hurt. At Smaug’s request. The battle was personal and intense. She tore her gaze away from his intimate display of emotion. It seemed wrong to watch him crumble. Gandalf looked sadly at him.

            “There was little information we could get out of him despite my healing skills,” Elrond continued. “He muttered crazy things. But he also knew important details about Smaug and his fortress and his men. He had heard things and seen things that even Gandalf’s highest placed agents couldn’t uncover. He called himself Moon Runes, or so we gathered in his delirium. A week ago he said something that pushed me to come here. I know what you are planning to do, to steal the Arkenstone from Smaug and what Moon Runes said will be of great value. He told me of a Gate, a passageway into the fortress, unguarded and unknown. He told me that anyone who could traverse this Gate would bypass all the outer security imposed by Samug, the guns, the fences, the guards and the traps. The passageway leads into Smaug’s inner sanctum. But he said getting to this Gate is near impossible and even if you do cross through it, there are many cameras in the inner sanctum, guards and watchers.” Elrond explained. Bella stared at her hands not wanting anyone to see fear flash through her eyes. “But he also told me that Smaug would be holding a party on the night of the Autumn Equinox. Moon Runes called it Durin’s Day. All the richest people in Laketown will be invited, or so I gathered. Our Moon Runes was quite insistent on calling them and I quote _’Pretty Moth Peacocks called to the Flame will get burnt by the Plague if they do not give up their Golden Tears’_. Sometimes he was more cryptic, sometimes he was remarkably lucid for a man who has been through so much,”

            Bella considered what Elrond had said. She put all the pieces together and a plan emerged, flawed and riddled with holes. But a plan nonetheless. She spoke slowly, measuring her words.

            “So, you believe that this party is our way in,”

            “No, this Gate is our way in, the party is our way to remain inside,” Replied Gandalf

            “So I pass through the Gate and then pretend that I am some rich favourite of Smaug’s so the guards don’t capture me and throw me in some forsaken cell to rot or worse,”

            “Yes, the guards are always wary of strangers but if you are just one stranger in a crowd of them then you will be safe. Or safer. And bypassing the outer security means that your lack of invitation, papers and biometric ID will not be a problem,”

            “And where is this Gate?” There was a pause after the question. Gandalf and Elrond exchanged a glance. Bella looked over at Archer who was crouched against a wall, his head in his hands. She could tell from is stiff posture that he was still listening.

            “Hidden,”

 

            Bella exploded, or exploded as much as she could considering they were having a secret meeting in hushed voices.

            “Damn it Gandalf! I’ve had enough of your cryptic whisperings and mysteriousness. This is MY life we’re risking. I may have vowed my oath to the cause but I will be told exactly what I am getting into. You WILL tell me everything that concerns me and MY mission. I am not asking you for more than that. But I WILL not accept any less,”

            Elrond looked slightly taken aback. Gandalf looked pleased. Right now Bella wanted to slap that stupid calm smile off his face.

            “That is all I can tell you Burglar. I know not where it is hidden,”

            “Then all our planning is for naught Gandalf. I can’t exactly pass through a gate when we don’t know where that gate is.” She threw her hands up in the air. She hid the sudden swell of hopelessness that welled up inside her. They were so close to breaking, all of them. And it was now, the final intense hurdles that were proving impossible to overcome. She wanted to kick something, if she were alone she probably would. But in the present company she would show a little restraint.

            “I do not know where the Gate is, but there is someone who does,”

            “Who?” The voice was Archer’s. Low and sorrowful but determined.

            “Thranduil of Mirkwood,”

           

Bella recognized the name and she swallowed. Thranduil was a curious, hidden man. His group of men and him had taken up a large portion of the underworld. As far all Bella knew he wasn’t a drug-dealer or an arms trafficker. She hadn’t even heard any rumours of him being closely associated with Smaug. She had however heard rumours that his army was almost as large as Smaug’s and the only reason he was allowed to remain in the thriving underworld was because of this. How he had acquired this army she didn’t know. Smaug and Thranduil operated on a ‘if you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone’ policy. Bella didn’t know why he of all people would know of the secret passageways into Smaug dominion. She asked Gandalf this. Gandalf glanced over at Archer before replying.

            “Thranduil is a curious and cunning man. Some call him an Architect but he is more than that. He is a Creator. He has designed the most wondrous structures in Middle-Earth including Smaug’s fortress. He knows all it’s pathways and hidden corners. He is the only one who would know of the Gate. Indeed I believe he may have made use of it. Many of his men are accomplished thieves and stole rather liberally from our previous ruler. He is rich and powerful and extremely private,”

            “We should ask him for help,” Bella said not understanding Gandalf’s reticence.

            “We cannot be sure he will help us. He cares not for the rebellion, just as he cares little for Smaug. He is content with how things are. He has his riches and his land. As long as no one encroaches on it he has little care for what happens in the world above,” Elrond answered, his mouth curled in distaste.

            “We still have to ask him. He is our only hope,”

            “Yes, we will,”

            There was a note of finality to Gandalf’s tone. Bella knew him well enough to see the worry in his attitude. This was their only chance and it was so incredibly fragile, so uncertain. With just one word Thranduil could send all their hopes crumbling to the ground. She didn’t know the man but she hoped that the image of cruel blue eyes was incorrect, a figment of her imagination. She rubbed her hands across her face, was nothing ever going to be simple?

 

            “So send him a message. Ask him if he will help us.” Bella said. It seemed to be the obvious solution. She felt so tired all of a sudden. She twisted one of her knives in her fingers, letting the light that filtered through the broken roof glint off the blade. She wanted a cup of tea. Her shoulders drooped as she waited expectantly for the two tall men to answer. Archer had started to pace again, each footstep echoing off the walls.

            “If we send a message it could easily be intercepted by one of Smaug’s men. The Underworld is littered with them. Our request of Thranduil needs to come in person rather then paper. A person has a better chance on convincing him anyway. One of us must to go. A member of the rebellion is not someone who can be bribed or tempted and will likely put a fight if anyone attempts to capture them,” Gandalf was speaking slowly as if pondering but Bella saw through his acting. Understanding came like a cold slap.

            “You mean for me to go plead our case to him,” Gandalf looked sad at her statement.

            “You are quiet and clever and discreet. You can slip through the outer rings of the criminal Underworld without being noticed. You have been under the city before, you know the ways. And if Thranduil does agree to help us then there will be no need for you to return to the surface again, he can lead you straight to the Gate,” His arguments were logical, clear and reasonable but that didn’t stop Bella’s anger. She didn’t like the way he just assumed she was willing to risk everything she had without even giving her the choice. The fact that she was willing made no difference, it was still her life he was pushing around the chessboard. She clenched her fists.

            “Burglar, you don’t have to…” It was Archer who spoke, softly and kindly. Bella felt a sudden swell of warmth for the young man. There was still gentleness in him that had disappeared from many of the other members; even his bitterness couldn’t overwhelm it. She turned back to Gandalf.

            “I’ll go Gandalf. I’ll play your pawn willingly. But don’t you dare play with my choices ever again,” Gandalf’s expression was caught between pride and sadness.

            “But,” he said, “You will not be going alone,”

            Bella frowned at him.

            “Prince will accompany you,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI guys. The response to this fic has been wonderful and I'm very grateful to all of you for sticking with it despite the typos etc etc. I promise you will see Thorin and Bella together soon. Meanwhile please feel free to ask questions, make suggestions, offer critique or just tell me how you're all doing.


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